


The Ghosts of a Scream

by silverspectre



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, happy ending only for munlyle sorry locky, im sorry lockwood pls get therapy, implied depression, metaphors... so many, pretty detailed meltdowns, talks of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspectre/pseuds/silverspectre
Summary: Even years after he could no longer see ghosts, ghosts of his own started to haunt Lockwood. Lucy was gone - why had he let her go?
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle & Holly Munro, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle/Holly Munro
Kudos: 4





	The Ghosts of a Scream

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 'Stay Here' by Gaho, 'A Few Years Later' by BlockB, and 'My Love, I Still' by I'll   
> Please listen to them! They're very good songs ^^  
> I hope you enjoy! This was crossposted to my Tumblr as well.

“You’ll stay with me?”  
“Always. No matter what it is, my heart will always choose you, Luce.”  


It had been years. Lucy could no longer hear ghosts, and nor did she want to. Her head was sick and the voices kept echoing in her ears - a reminder of the suffering, the pain, the resentment. She and Lockwood no longer had things in common besides the _trauma_. The relationship grew tiring, like a repeated day of chores. Regardless, even if she couldn’t see ghosts, her ghosts of the past haunted her in every waking moment.

Lockwood wasn’t doing any better. She knew that much from George, who seemed to be the somewhat most sane out of the original Lockwood & Co. trio. Holly was _thriving_ , Kipps was alright. How Lucy envied Holly. There was no hate toward Holly Munro; no, no, no, rather, hopeless longing replaced that anger. If only Lucy was perfect like Holly….

  
“You’re sure you’ll be alright without me?”  
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” Lockwood had restrained himself from calling her ‘baby’.  
  
If he was honest, Lockwood still loved Lucy. it was a plain fact; a parasite plaguing the back of his mind. He knew she was the one for him, but he had to respect her decision.

It was nights like these that he drank. The alcohol was his poison, and he’d hope to make it his cause of death. He couldn’t go on without her, it hurt too much. These thoughts weighed his heart like the weight of the world on Atlas’s shoulders. His heart was so, so weak.

Where had he gone wrong? What had he done? He was so, so sure Lucy had been his. He would always be hers. She’d left him once before, and the months proceeding were _hell._ At least he’d gotten an excuse to see her then. Now, there was none. Memories haunted him worse than any Type 3, and as much as he drank, he could not forget.

He couldn’t forget the way she left, the way _he let her_ , or the way he’d cried for the first time in a long, long time, slouched against the kitchen cabinets. The way he completely broke down, knees cuddled to his chest and head bowed down. The way his hands shook and the tears he tried to wipe away only kept pouring down his face. The way he blamed himself, yelled, screamed and almost punched a wall. No one was there for him now.

Because he was stupid. He just lied, brushed her off like dust. Lucy was more than that - but he still lied to her, pretended to be fine for her sake. But he knew - he could never brush it off - the fact that he’d always love her, even if the slippery words sugarcoated in strawberry syrup told him he didn’t. It was the bitter aftertaste of truth that always stung him in the end.  
How could he have let this happen?

“Come off it Lucy, you know I’d die for you.”  
  
Somehow, Lucy found herself knocking on Holly Munro’s door. Somehow. Holly lived alone, being single. Holly was always there for Lucy; she’d know what to do.

“Lucy! What a pleasant surprise.” Holly was, as always, dressed casually yet somehow managing to make it look gorgeous. A cherry red apron was tied around her waist.

“Is this a bad time?” Lucy asked.

“Of course not! I’m just baking. The cookies are almost done. Why don’t you step inside?”

Upon doing so, the scent of said cookies greeted her, warm and inviting.  
“So, what brings you here?” Holly asked, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook. She gestured for Lucy to sit on the couch, which Lucy did. “Have you been alright?”

“I want to move on over Lockwood.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Just… I feel like moping about it weighs me down. I want… I want to feel happy again.”

Holly sat down next to Lucy. “That’s understandable. How do you want to go about doing that?”

“That’s the thing. I dunno. Everything feels…. pointless. I want to date more, but I don’t know many people - and besides, I’m afraid it won’t be the same as before.”

Holly nodded, listening patiently. You could really tell she was listening, making proper eye contact and following everything Lucy said. That was the thing about Holly: she was so caring, thoughtful, and patient. She never made it feel like you were bothering her.

 _Ding_. Her oven timer sounded.

  
“Where d'you think we’ll be a few years from now?”  
“Together. Happy.”  
  
The pain was always immense. It twisted and turned, coiling itself around Lockwood’s heart or even _himself_ \- it was too hard to tell. It suffocated him, made it impossible to breathe. The pain was a snake, constricting around his heart until the feeling was _gone_ but still ever-present, until sadness was the only thing Lockwood knew, and tears were the only thing he could produce. A crying Lockwood was far from a pretty sight.

He wanted to scream, but his throat always seemed too dry. He wanted to go numb, feel _nothing_ , but his eyes always seemed too wet, his heart’s bleeding incessant. He drank, but the alcohol could not cure the wound inside him. It closed him up for a night, but the morning after was always shittier than the night previous. It was a failed strategy, but it was a routine, and a _strategy,_ to the very least. Something he could do, and pretend it worked.

“I want to live my entire life with you.”  


“Is that so? I want to live the entire _afterlife_ with you.”  
  
The more they spent time together, the more Lucy fell for Holly. The more dates she’d set up that felt entirely _meaningless_. With Holly, she needn’t worry. Everything drifted away when it was only Lucy and Holly. She was always so considerate and caring, and her laugh sent butterflies rushing to the pit of Lucy’s stomach. Lucy hadn’t felt this way in years. Holly Munro was _perfect_ , but not the jealousy-invoking kind of perfect. She was the kind of perfect that made you want to kiss her.

Months passed with failed date after failed date. Holly was ever-patient, but Lucy new she couldn’t wait. She’d confess, she could _totally_ do it! Well… What if…? Holly wouldn’t… But how would…?

“Penny for your thoughts? You’ve been staring at a wall for 5 minutes, Lucy.”  


“Why do you love me, Lockwood?”  
“There isn’t a reason not to.”  
  
Lucy and Holly Munro were dating. Lockwood couldn’t remember exactly how he found out, but he did. They looked so happy together, just as he and Lucy had years back. Maybe they were happier. After all those years, Lucy had been the better one out of the relationship. Lockwood felt like he did nothing in that time after the breakup, wasting it, even though the initial hurt and pain had never numbed truly. He felt worthless. Like he could do nothing. Everyone around him was happy, so why couldn’t he be like them? What had he been doing wrong? Tears ran dry but his heart cried blood and liquid pain that could only be described as a mixture of regret and agony. He screamed. The walls echoed, then everything fell silent. Obsolete of sound, as if it was trying to erase his feelings. Devoid of anything, but he could still feel the pain. His hands trembled, shook, and he grasped one hand with the other but the shaking was ceaseless and he could only drape a shaky arm over his eyes. He couldn’t bare see the light, shining and blinding him, obliterating his senses. When would he be okay?

He screamed louder than the blinding light.

A dark, dark silence.  



End file.
